Solutions to a Hollow Victory
by Shocotate
Summary: There is no greater bore than perfection, and a year after the Promised day Father is starting to realize that, so he finds a different way to occupy his time…


Hello everyone, this is what has been occupying my time all month _ This is my AU for what I think would happen if Father had won on the Promised Day. Giant longshot because I sure can run my mouth. Anyway, here it is, I'll stop talking and let you read it ^^;

T rated because I'm paranoid, though I think I might need it this time o_o

Hiromu Arakawa owns Pride, Wrath and Father and everyone else really _

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It wasn't right, being back here, in this room- this house, it didn't feel right either, because _she _wasn't here. Pride watched Wrath fumble with the tea strainer, it wasn't that he disliked Wrath's tea but…he'd become rather accustomed to _her_ tea, he knew Wrath had too.

"**Where are you planning on hiding, Wrath? Father expects us to hide to the best of our abilities regardless of the fact that this is merely for his entertainment." **Pride wrinkled his nose in slight disgust at the murky blackness that swirled about in his cup; all the milk had curdled months ago, and in hopes of making the tea at least drinkable he dropped two, three, four, five sugar cubes into it, staring as they dissolved with a soft fizzing sound. Pride had never smelled tea before; he imagined _real _cups of tea would smell better. Father had removed Gluttony from him when he altered his new container to resemble his previous, his sense of smell had dulled to what he assumed was that of a human, he was grateful in any case, any sense of smell was better than none at all.

"Don't you think it's a bit strange, Pride?" It had been a peculiar request, Father had woken him that morning, he was smiling, had proposed they find something to pass the time, that they were to hide within the limits of the city, and he would find them. The game was to go on for three days, if he didn't find them before then they were to return home having 'won'. It didn't matter how sudden or strange, Pride would never question anything Father asked of him.

"**Why should I? There is no reason Father would not want to do something recreational, it is not our place to question Father's wishes, Wrath."** Wrath only sighed a little, wiping at the drops of tea that had collected at the tips of his moustache.

"I'm…concerned about Father, Pride. I think he-"

"**Why can you not accept that Father is happy? Just because you have nothing to slaughter, even after you spent all that time in Aerugo. The very thought of it is ridiculous, Father is perfect now, why must there be something wrong if Father wants to spend time with me…us."** Pride remembered, on the Promised day, when he was pitifully too weak to stand, collapsed in a heap next to Edward Elric, shadows still digging into his face, a spreading web of black crawling under his skin, it reminded him of…something, but it didn't matter at the moment, not at all. Edward's screaming barely registered in his head anymore, but screaming meant he was still alive, that was good, his container wouldn't last much longer, he needed to…

He must have fainted, and after that he was in Father's arms, covering the hole in his face so Father wouldn't see, but his hand was gone too, and his feet and one of his legs, specks of dust floating up through his sight until he could hardly focus. Father had chuckled in his normal voice despite his new perfect body, brushing the hair out of his eye, promising to fix him, make Edward's body a suitable container for him. Pride had wanted to thank Father, but he could only cling to him with his remaining hand and gasp for breath, his lungs torn to shreds as they slowly dissolved. He'd never believed what Truth said; he couldn't be falling apart like this…it wasn't…

_An hour, maybe three if you're lucky, might make it 'til tomorrow if you don't move, but you won't be doing that so…_

"_Sleep now, Pride…_" Father had held him, for the first time in what felt like forever, hugging him close, the familiar sparks of alchemy crackling over his back, and he felt himself being eased from his container. With whatever strength he had left, Pride huddled closer, smiling up at him, an innocent, genuine smile, the first for hundreds of years, he didn't think it possible to smile like that anymore. But in Father's arms he was content, and welcomed sleep more than anything.

He might have imagined it, but he saw…something, somewhere, that without him the rest of his container dissolved instantly, arms, legs…_leg_, his clothes flattening, but his head…a little skull remained, a large cavity replacing one half at the back, cracks running along it, spine keeping it in place, his waistcoat raised around what seemed like ribs, a few missing on one side. They didn't dissolve, but crumbled to a fine white powder after a moment. When he awoke his old container was nothing more than a pile of dust-covered clothes, and he disregarded the thought

"…and what about you, Pride?" Wrath's voice brought Pride from his reminiscing, he didn't know how long it had been since that day, much like centuries ago, the passage of time was lost on Pride these days; he knew only that when he awoke in his new container (after Father had informed him that he had slept a 'while' as he adjusted to it) it was sunny every time he ventured outside, but then when he went upstairs there was snow, but that was a while ago now, back when Wrath had first gone on holiday. When Wrath had been to Aerugo he had found a newspaper, which had given him an approximate date, he guessed it to be April 19th when he came back, by his reckoning it was now May 18th.

"**I have not chosen where I shall hide yet, Wrath."** Pride sipped at his tea with a frown, grimacing at the taste, but he wouldn't waste it, and he could only imagine how much worse it would taste should it go cold.

"Somewhere where you will not be easily located."

"**Of course."**

"No small spaces, I imagine" Pride scowled, glaring up from his tea

"**And why would that be, Wrath?"**

"Would it not be hazardous, given your container's current state?" Pride's gasp only voiced itself as a cough when he forced it down with more tea, and he covered his mouth for the sake of being polite. Wrath didn't have his eye anymore…so he couldn't…there was no way he could have found out…

"**There's nothing wrong with my-"**

"It's the Elric boy; you don't have his soul anymore, do you? That's why your container's ro-." Pride buried his surprise beneath another layer of denial, but he knew that wouldn't work for long at this rate, but it was the only thing he could do.

"**I told you, Wrath, there isn't-"**

"How long? Before I left you were fine." The older homunculus set his tea on the table, his hands clenched in his lap, his scowl only deepened, carving lines into his pale boyish face. Pride was stubborn, but if Wrath had already figured it out he saw no point in lying, he sighed, shoulders sagging.

"**A month…maybe, I don't remember, except that one night"** the night where all the weeks of not eating anything caught up with him, there was nothing particularly different about that night, he hadn't moved in days, Father hadn't spoke to him for longer, the light in Father's room burned his eyes so he'd huddled himself in a corner. He didn't mind, he just went to sleep** "I think I… died, I couldn't hear Edward's screaming at night after that."** Pride kept his sight trained on the floor, a slight blush spreading over his cheeks through his shame ** "How can you tell?"**

"You haven't used your shadows, like you're afraid. And your clothes, you hate wearing trousers, which means you're hiding something; I've seen you regenerating too, in the mornings for '_no_ _reason'_. I don't think I need to point out the _smell_" Pride turned away, folding his arms around his stomach, it had only been six hours or so and it was already bloating again, it used to take days before…

"**Oh,"** Pride glanced down, lifting his trouser leg, his feet and ankles no doubt a dark maroon by now, it slowly creeping up over his socks** "it's that obvious?"** Pride knew something was wrong the first time, how when he awoke he couldn't move, and he could only sleep in hopes of being normal again when he woke instead, the day after he noticed how the backs of his legs had purplish bruises. Five days went by before he decided to take a bath because the bruises were darker and might have been dirt instead. But the sight he found in the mirror, how pale he had become, but that was a nonissue compared to the black splotches that stained all one side of him, over his thighs and feet and his back.

Bathing only made everything worse, as he scrubbed his skin flaked and peeled away, his stomach swelling, small blisters forming over his skin and bursting, black pus spilling into the water, he might have fell asleep, drowned, but it must have been days later when he climbed out from the black lined tub. He reeked, and his stomach was so bloated he had no doubt it would burst, all the while the thought of regenerating eluded him. His skin fell off in clumps now, leaving his hands a bright pink as the whole layer came away, his fingernails had become loose, he must have lost his toenails in the bath, only shrivelled grey spots in their place. His arms and legs were swollen too, burgundy scars where his blisters had popped all over them. It hurt to move, and he didn't want to look at himself in the mirror, pulling his hair down to cover his eyes, but the hair pulled further than it should, and came away in his hand- a dirty blond. His eyes, that could hardly open because of the swelling in his eyelids, had turned a faded gold, he…he was…he looked like—Pride retched, and pushed the mirror over.

He had the sense to regenerate after that.

His regeneration was sluggish, far from his once unnoticeable rate, but two centuries of practice meant nothing in his new container. After five minutes he was himself again, with his violet eyes and his perfect pale-but-not-too-pale skin and his lustrous black hair, but the small watery streaks of his hands still decorated the broken glass. Pride sat silently, chin resting on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, understanding now; human bodies could not hold a shape without their souls, and with Edward's gone…he was being rejected. Cold, alone, ashamed, naked, and endlessly festering in his stolen body, Pride thought there had never been a more appropriate time to cry.

"And is there a reason you have kept this from Father?" Wrath was becoming a bit _too _chatty in his old age, all that time in Aerugo had made him forget the hierarchy, but Pride wouldn't hasten his container's decomposition by using his shadows and weakening his skin in order to put Wrath in his place.

"**Why would I wish to waste Father's time with such a trivial matter? It is no fault of his Edward Elric's soul was used prematurely. However, Father altered this body to be perfect out of his love for me. My container's…_condition _is nothing but a minor hindrance, so long as I am able to regenerate it will be able to sustain me, therefore Father need not know."**

"You mean you're too embarrassed to tell him." Pride scoffed at the very implication of him being embarrassed, that was absurd, and yet he couldn't bring himself to deny it, thinking it a pointless waste of breath, Wrath wouldn't listen. Pride took another sip of his tea, the taste progressively becoming more revolting as it cooled just as he had assumed.

"**You should run along, Wrath, we shouldn't dawdle here anymore,"** Pride's scowl softened to a dejected frown, something was…wrong, saying that was wrong. He heard Wrath choke on his tea from across to table, because Pride had fallen back into his now senseless routine and was sitting in the chair where he sat when Wrath wasn't home but the seat next to him was empty and it wasn't right because _she_ wasn'there, but he didn't…

Wrath's moustache was drooping and dripping tea when he recovered, but he only nodded and stood, Pride opened his mouth, but he didn't even know what he wanted to say, and closed it again without a word. Pride sat a little straighter as Wrath reached for his sword, kicking his legs idly over the chair's edge, glaring up at the younger homunculus, if Wrath wished to cause trouble he would happily teach him what an unwise decision that was, regardless of the consequences, boredom was no excuse for disrupting things, _Greed _learned that years ago, but it was pointless thinking of him, he was gone now- good riddance. But he didn't do anything, picking up the small pack of food Father had given them that morning in the same hand (Pride hadn't opened his yet because he didn't need to eat that often, he doubted if he would eat it at all) and heading for the door. Pride watched him with narrow eyes, leaning back in his chair, as if trying to detect the slightest hint that Wrath was about to turn and give him some pointless lecture about something. It would've been their first fight in over a year, they hadn't seen enough of each other this year, and they wouldn't dare fight in Father's presence- well, _he_ wouldn't at least, anyone under a hundred years old was too naïve to trust on anything. Wrath closed to door behind him with an inaudible click.

Pride didn't move. Even ten minutes after Wrath had left.

0 * 0 * 0

Human food didn't last long. Pride had realized that centuries ago, that sometimes when he was hungry the food would have a taste, which was odd in itself since no human food had much of a taste, and not a particularly pleasant taste at that, and it would make him ill. Lust told him not to eat food that was more than a week or two old. It was obvious that hardly anything outside the food Father had made for them (but he wasn't eating that…) would be edible now. Looking around the kitchen Pride could tell Wrath had eaten all the food when it was fresh, the only thing left was a box of cereal, amongst dozens of empty boxes, no doubt ones that Wrath had stolen from the countless markets dotted about Central because of their two-year-plus shelf life; it wasn't worth their dry, bland lack of flavour at any rate, if Wrath had been eating cereal everyday then it was no wonder he was in such a state, at least he brought some things back from Aerugo, but even those were gone now.

At the back of one of the drawers there was a half-eaten chocolate bar, speckled white with decay, Pride remembered, _she _had said she would make chocolate cookies for the eclipse when he came back from the training in the east, for his birthday she would bake a cake for the day after, just a small cake, but she would always say it was just for him, it didn't even matter that there was only one candle, she'd never get enough candles anyway…how old was he anymore…? Pride shoved the drawer back in, pushing the thought away with it. What had he even come into the kitchen for? His stomach bubbled to itself, drops of acid splashing up against the back of his throat and leaving that pungent smell lingering there.

"**Oh, that."** Pride needed something to cool his stomach, if he was too warm his container's deterioration would only accelerate. He hurried over to the icebox, scraping up a handful of ice cubes and frost powder like snow, pushing it into his mouth in the most degrading manner, swallowing them quickly so they wouldn't melt. Faded rays of orange poured in through the window, and Pride flattened himself, shrinking away from it, he needed to move, go somewhere colder, he wasn't going to regenerate after only eight hours, that was far too pitiful for someone like him. He scowled as his stomach complained with another growl, swelling further, Pride just pushed at it in disgust and tightened his waistcoat and belt to force it down (he ignored the slight _crack_ as his skin flaked under the strain). Shaking his head he tugged at the slab of ice at the back of the icebox, dragging it across the floor, up the stairs until he reached the bathroom, watching it smash in the tub. Pride wasn't going to let this little hindrance win, of course he wasn't.

In the bath of half-melted ice his whole body quaked silently, his feet, which were already stained purple turning a bright red, but after a while they turned black and he stopped feeling the cold. Something flickered in his head a little; he remembered the cold, how it would freeze for a while, start burning and then stop, but he didn't remember when such a thing could have happened, if it had at all. Pride hugged his knees closer, curling up to stop his shivering, his bloated belly warm and rippling against his thighs, spitting acid again, burning his throat until it hurt to swallow. He ignored it, not giving it the satisfaction of knowing how he wondered, wondered how thin the lining would be by now, if it would suddenly tear to spite him and let the acid eat away at his legs, to force him to regenerate, but he wouldn't yield to the silly whims of Edward's decaying body, it was his container now, it should listen to him, Father had made his old container artificially, so no such problems could arise, even if this container had felt almost the same as his previous until…but it was pointless to think about that anymore.

"**One…two…three…" **Pride counted the seconds, he could wait until the ice had melted and warmed before regenerating, that couldn't be so difficult. He'd already been in the bath for a while, and as he counted past two-thousand he sank lower, frigid water was pooling around his blackened toes in a small dent in the ice by five-thousand, and by the time he was past ten-thousand he was sitting in little more than a lukewarm puddle. Pride's breath came out in shuddering streams that froze in front of him; he didn't know what time it was, ten-thousand seconds…it'd been over two hours at least.

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor felt warm against his almost frostbitten feet, and despite his shuddering he knew he couldn't risk it, his clothes were too thick, he'd end up too warm far too quickly. But in such an embarrassing state…even if there was no one to see he covered himself out of shame, reaching for a towel. Pride picked up his clothes and walked towards the door, leaving pink stained footprints as the tiles tore the skin off the soles of his feet, leaving the soft putrefying flesh underneath bare, sticking to the floor. Pride scowled, biting back the yelp that had built up in his throat, releasing it as a slow hiss through his teeth. He sighed; he'd had quite enough of this, he carried on through the door and down the hall, the telltale sparks of his lethargic regeneration crackling as he went.

0 * 0 * 0

Pride hadn't been into his room in over a year, it was the only room he could have called his own, he slept in Father's room on the floor, back when Father first made him his container up to yesterday, he had always been content there, all the other homunculi had their own rooms, obviously because Father did not want them as close to him as he. It wasn't like he cared about this room, not in the slightest; he had just come to collect his pyjamas so that he wouldn't have to bear wrapping this towel around him anymore.

Everything was as it was back then, he didn't remember it as clearly as he thought he would, his memory had distorted a little after the Promised day, but Pride wasn't one to dwell on the past so he hardly noticed, at least that was what he told himself. Edward had never been in this room, this wasn't like the tea room, and even if he'd never been in the bathroom either this was different, and another feeling of something amiss, that he felt alien even in his own home (of sorts) washed over him. It wasn't right to be in here, in a new container that was rejecting him in less than eighteen months never mind two-hundred-and-thirty-three years. A few layers of dust covered everything, and as he pulled open his drawers he coughed as a cloud erupted from the disturbance. Finding his pyjamas wasn't a problem given their peculiar blue shade, and he slipped the top on without unbuttoning it before the thought of underwear ever occurred to him, he was grateful pyjamas, underwear, and socks shared a drawer given the distinct lack of them in general, his abundance of clothes negated it somewhat. Dressed and comfortable again Pride tossed the towel aside, something like happiness fizzing inside him; it certainly wasn't his stomach troubling him again so soon after regenerating, he let himself smile a little, ambling around on the balls of his feet, still pale and soft and as they should be, allowing himself to become lost in the rose coloured haze of his long abandoned charade.

The glow of the moon filtered in through the window, casting a faint shadow behind him. The moon didn't bother him; its pale light wouldn't do anything adverse to his container he assumed. Sitting against his bed and staring out into the star filled sky, above the half-destroyed Central headquarters and the wall that surrounded it he smiled, the full moon always had a strange way of calming him, ever since he was young, but such memories were nothing but blurred scraps of noise and colour now, they weren't important. His brow furrowed a tad, he was forgetting something he was sure…

"**Oh."** That was it.

Five minutes later Pride returned and set the food Father had made for him on his end table, next to the candle _she _used to insist he keep besides his bed in case the electricity ever failed them so he could find his way to their room should he get frightened, the thought alone amused him to no end even now. Everything about this room began to become unbelievably entertaining in its absurdity, the scruffy drawings of his beloved tiny alchemist at the bottom of his toy chest, scribbles of what she would have thought imaginary transmutation circles covering the space around them, rather those that he had observed in Father's books, altered _just _enough to not draw attention to himself should anyone be curious enough to inspect them with something more than a quick glance and an attempt to humour him on account of his status and his childishness. To think he would have become an alchemist himself, it was more than worth it, despite Truth's punishment, like always Father had been correct, Truth could be cruel, even if he could hardly recall the short time had spent at The Gate. Father had never spoken about alchemy to him, never praised him, but the fact that he had helped Father achieve his goal after so much preparation was enough, even if he couldn't perform alchemy anymore.

Pride 'hmmd' to himself, he had never been in _their _room, it wasn't like the delightful child he was to sneak into Wrath's and _her _room back when he lived here, but with them not here it didn't seem such a problem to feed his curiosity for once. He picked up the small cloth containing the food Father had prepared for him and went on his way, passing his reflection in the mirror but covering his eyes as he did, not giving it a glance because he just knew he'd be so deathly pale by now, minutes after he'd made himself fine… he never wanted to see himself in a mirror again.

0 * 0 * 0

Their room must have been enormous, the master bedroom was always at least twice as big as the other bedrooms, after all, two people had to sleep there, and with Wrath being the—with Wrath _having_ been the Führer, his room would no doubt be even more extravagant. Pride crept along the hallways, his feet sticking a little to the marble flooring, it was cold, but he didn't mind, at least it'd keep him cool for longer. He wasn't sure where he was going, he never could see well in the dark, and with the moon facing the other side of the house… it didn't matter. He'd be fine.

After walking into a wall or two and feeling his way across the abandoned mansion he reached their door, still closed since the Promised day, whether _she _or one of the servants had been the one to close it, somehow Pride hoped it was the former. They never found out where _she _had gone, Wrath had disposed of the bodies of their servants, Pride had seen their skeletons in a pile outside- _she _wasn't among them. A certain, twisted thought occurred to him, Wrath was probably going senile, maybe her body was safe, safe in their room, the appearance of the door never having been opened a mere illusion. Though the thought of Wrath keeping her after this long implied all sorts of filthy things Pride didn't consider it, some part of him perhaps…wishing such a thing could be true. He opened the door.

Pride knew he was wrong as he choked on the plume of dust that billowed in from the door, just like almost every other room in the house. He waited for the dust to settle before attempting to strain in eyes in the darkness, and his gasp forced the majority of it into Edwar—_his _lungs.

Their room was…small, far smaller than he ever would have imagined, naught but a dresser, a wardrobe and a cramped looking double bed decorating its four brown-ish corners, maybe brown, he couldn't see anything definite in the dark. The similarly coloured curtains were open, a small spray of light trickling in from the stars and left over moonlight, not enough light for Pride's liking, and he tiptoed blindly towards what looked like the dresser for hopefully some matches in a drawer, anything that'd provide him with enough light to see and sate his momentary whim. He didn't understand, why was their room like this? His room was so extravagant, why would they- why would _she_ choose to spoil him while they themselves had hardly anything, it didn't make any sense, he may have been their only child but it wasn't like they would ever be short of money that they could use to spend on themselves, Wrath was probably used to having a cramped room because of how he was raised but… did she cherish him that much that she wished to spend all their wealth on him?

Some time later Pride found a match box and a candle, he allowed himself a weak smile, it reminded him of the candle Wrath often kept in his office, he'd been so stubborn, rejecting modern means of lighting, preferring to work into the night with nothing but the faint glow of the candle by his side, gone now of course. The dresser was simple, shallow engravings etched over it, and a mirr-a _mirror_, Pride only bit his tongue and pushed the candle further away, reaching for the closest object on the dresser and wondering off with it, leaving his bundle of food in its place. He pushed himself up on top of the bed covers, lying down despite himself, the candle flickering through the corner of his left eye.

It was a music box. Shaped in the vague representation of a heart that humans liked (Pride had seen enough hearts in his life to know how incorrect it was), filigree patterns covering its royal blue surface, his fingers catching on the key used to wind it up as he held it, how horribly it clashed with its maroon surroundings, just like him, in his sickly blue pyjamas, no doubt his sickly coloured skin too...

She used to like that colour, maroon, might have always liked it, she never seemed to have a preference for colours though, neither he nor Wrath minded what she wore. The first time he caught a glimpse the day she and Wrath met, back when Wrath was nothing more than a lieutenant colonel (but he wasn't anything now, and maybe that was worse), who lingered on his every word because he had the sense to listen to him. She wore maroon then, just the skirt; he didn't think anything of it at the time. A shawl too, what felt like years ago, _was _years ago, nothing extravagant, perfect for someone like her. Sometimes she would read to him at night, Wrath observing them with something of a smile, while she would tousle his hair as she did, he was mature for his age, like she was when she was ten, let him read _The Coral Island_. He wasn't fussed about the tale of shipwrecked schoolboys and Ishvalans, but leaning against her soft maroon shawl, while she would talk about things that he didn't really hear, just the sound of her voice was pleasant enough, on those days he would find himself becoming drowsy and he would end going to bed early. She wouldn't mind when he yawned and forgot to cover his mouth straight away, making such a fuss over him as she lead him away, tucking him into his bed with a kiss. Just being with her, it felt nice…

Pride was one for more…sophisticated literature, when _she _was out he would scour their library for such things, he was quite fond of their collection of poems, modern enough things, but tinged with the darkness of the past, fabricated in every way and yet enough to frighten humans out of their wits. Something bubbled up through his thoughts, echoing there, he remembered…something, from Wrath's books…

_Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow  
>From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -<br>For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -  
>Nameless here for evermore.<em>

"**Not a maiden…" **Pride whispered to himself as he twisted the key in the music box, winding it up slowly as he dwelled on his thoughts of _her_, them drifting in to cloud everything else until there was only her room and her bed and… **"Not lost either…" **he wished she was, if Father's plan had worked perfectly…then she was still alive really, not what he would consider alive but…conscious at least…would she remember him? Would she wonder where he was? He'd hate to imagine what it would be like…

The music box couldn't wind up any more, it clicking as he twisted it a little too far. Pride let go, the music box falling in his lap, he regarded it more carefully then, observing the different way it reflected the light of the candle if he tilted it. The music box needed a key, but she wasn't one not to trust Wrath, it probably wasn't locked. He tugged at the lid anyway.

The wardrobe door creaked, opening a fraction by itself, Pride didn't want to look, look and see all the clothes she used to wear, every skirt and dress and suit, they'd all be in there. Stealing a glance inside he could see her simple array of clothes of all muted but pleasant colours. The day he'd left with Wrath she'd been wearing purple, how gullible she was, thinking he could actually leave Central by any means, like he could ever go so far east, he would never be able to leave. Ignorance was something Pride despised, and yet…it was for the best she remained ignorant to some things, he would have never wanted her to find out about…

But her purple dress was absent…which meant…

_She never came home that day…_

Pride had forgot most of human behaviour recently on account of it not being important, and for the life of him he couldn't concoct a suitable explanation for why she wasn't here, why she hadn't been here on the Promised Day. All these things inside his head…he couldn't deny that the pressure there caused something of a twinge; it was nothing he couldn't ignore. He crumpled himself up in the most undignified manner at the feeling, how foolish he was being, still wondering about pointless things, a minute spasm ran up through him, like it used to when he, without realizing, would—

Something smashed, and the wardrobe fell forward, well, half of it. It stopped early, held in place by—

Pride scowled, fingers tightening around the two halves of the music box, bringing his knees up, feeling the congealing blood in his container shift, running in syrup-like globs down to find another part of him to start staining, all hidden for now.

"**Go away…**_**now**_**!** **" **He didn't even move his mouth, his voice sounding through gritted teeth, it wasn't like he needed to move his mouth to speak, it was only a force of habit after so long. The strip of black supporting the wardrobe quivered, eye shimmering and its own teeth curved downwards in something of a frown. Pride may have desired it a little, somewhere, but that did _not _mean he had any intention of using them, as if he would be so stupid. He let himself relax, straightening out his legs and dragging the shadow back into his container as gently as he could, weakened skin rotted faster.

Pride sighed a little after it was over, better to forget about _that, _he'd only torn all her clothes, wasn't like it mattered now, she wouldn't be wearing them ever again…

The thought did nothing to remove the small frown that had developed to shape his face in the most shameful way. His whim beginning to wane he decided to focus on another curiosity, reaching for the food Father had made for him, untying the knot in the cloth slowly, setting the objects next to the candle without a thought, the small bottle of milk first, the apple and the small half of a bread roll following after it, it wasn't like he was going to be eating them yet.

Another momentary distraction over his thoughts were again pulled back to _her_, and he hated it. Pride didn't understand what was wrong with him; maybe just being in this house was affecting him somehow, maybe he shouldn't have been here at all, he was supposed to be hiding for Father's game, could _this _evenbe considered a real hiding place? Pride thought it better to continue to find distractions, returning to the music box, clenching his teeth as he continued to attempt to force it open, it wasn't locked, it wasn't…

The two halves of the box came away in his hands, the song coming out distorted and broken, he knew he could never hear what it sounded like now. Pride gasped, trying to force the pieces together again, but he'd snapped the hinge completely, and since he couldn't do alchemy anymore…but why did he desire to fix it so much anyway…? Wasn't like he cared about it…

He turned the lid over, his miserable frown only deepening, his head drooping as he saw the inside.

_Lenore_

Her name, inscribed in silver letters at the top, it seemed so foreign now, hearing her name was a rarity in itself, but seeing it written down...Wrath must have bought this for her, as an anniversary gift or something similar, even he hardly ever dared to use her name, Pride had only heard him use it two or three times in his presence. Below it were two circle frames. One contained a photograph of Wrath and her on their wedding day, he'd been there, observed it without a scrap of interest, it never seemed like an important event to him but now… but the _other_ photograph…

The photograph couldn't have been more than two years old, it was a picture of them, all three of them together. She was smiling; he was too, genuine for once, he'd been in many photographs in his life, wandering around groups of government officials, pottering over to the corrupt, aloof, most secretive general and his wife and pretending to be theirs, stretching the skin around his ankles to make himself look taller, no one would suspect a thing. His smile was never genuine there, fabricated like everything as far as acting human was concerned; it never bothered him, after so long he had perfected it.

He hadn't been genuine at first, another one of his facades, except this time he actually had to live with them too, the Führer and his wife, it would be easier to keep and eye on Wrath, and since it was on Father's orders he could of course play his part impeccably. But something changed, after that incident eight months in he stopped being able to determine whether all his actions were truly part of his act, he started doing more than he should, more than he was required, going out of his way to collect things for her, flowers, making drawings up, anything to see her smile and tell him how precious he was to her, or how smart he was…

It was for his 'ninth' birthday (more like three-hundred-and-twenty-third), she had wanted them to have a picture as a family, a year after that _terrible accident _that brought him to them she thought it nice to show how they would always be together somehow, he probably should have known it was a bad idea at the time.

_Please smile, Dear, I want us to have at least one nice photo of us all together_

The only smile Wrath could produce was snide or in the worst case sadistic, any type of seriousness worked out better, over the years Pride had managed to emulate the perfect kind of childish smile, and all his attempts to teach Wrath how to smile once he became a homunculus were fruitless to say the least, maybe adults' smiles were different, maybe they were something Pride could never learn to imitate in his inability to grow, something he hadn't even been aware existed, he'd never find out now either way.

_Look, Father, I'm smiling_

Pride had loved teasing Wrath in their roles, vying for her affections in quiet competition; he would always win of course. The voice he was no longer capable of producing echoed around his head, Edward's vocal chords were much too thick, and had been removed by Father anyway, his child-like voice had lost its place in the world along with everything else about him that made him appear human.

_Remember to look at the camera, Selim._

_I will, Mother._

_Mother._

**Mother.**

The word was like acid, scorching every fibre of his being until he cringed and the back of his eyes began to sting. It hurt to even think about it, hiding behind all his euphemisms was for the best, 'her' was easier, he could pretend he wasn't talking about that specific her but anyone, any woman. Lenore was a little bit worse, Lenore was an uncommon name, but not impossible for it to be someone else. But _Mother_—

Pride winced again at the sound of it in his head, lying back and reaching for the bottle of milk, a drink would help calm his nerves, his spare hand clinging and bunching up the covers. With Mother it was certain, no justifying or twisting could help him deceive himself there, even though he'd never had a mother, never would have one, but with her…sometimes he even managed to convince himself otherwise for the split second before he fell asleep or woke up, but that was impossible now. So much as thinking about her was doing him no good.

Something ached inside him, and the air stirred and grew thick as his shadows poured out around him, growing up the walls without his permission as he took gasping breaths through his nose while he gulped down the milk all at once, emptying the bottle before he even noticed. Pride threw it off anywhere, wrapping his arms around himself, not comforted in the slightest by the milk, holding his breath to attempt to calm down and control his breathing.

He…he couldn't stay here anymore; he needed to leave, right now. With his arms still tight around his waist he forced himself along, blowing out the candle and heading out the door, hearing his shadows being ripped from the wall, right through the bed posts and the candle and the dresser, Pride flinching as he heard them collapse in a heap of wood, wax, silk and shattered glass. Now he'd destroyed everything that was hers, everything he could ever use to convince himself she wasn't really…

The shadows went taut as Pride carried on through the dark, the slight light from the stars the only things allowing them to remain outside his container, carving jittery lines in the walls as they raked along them, leaving twenty long streaks with their four pairs of sharp fingered-hands. Pride didn't notice.

By the time he arrived in his room they were gone, he'd tripped a while ago, opening the door on his knees and weakly forcing himself along, all this thinking was wearing him out, he needed to sleep, sleep and forget about everything. Pride couldn't focus, specks of white framing his vision in his lightheadedness, his only priority being to crawl closer to the bed. His stomach whined something with a groan that barely reached him; he didn't care enough to even spend a second considering what Edward's body felt like pestering him with this time. Pride curled himself up on the bed, staring, trying to see through the dark, at the dark green of his bed covers, messy and unmade now because of him. The shadows returned, seeping off the bed and stretching to the walls, scraping down them slowly in a continuous pattern- down, move away, go up and start again, it didn't last long, by the third they were all shivering and losing their shape, pausing to lean against the still perfect wallpaper whenever his breath hitched, never scratching hard enough to tear it. Pride bit his lip, willing them away with a feeble thought, and despite wanting to keep his temperature cool he pulled the covers up to his neck, over his head, wrapping himself up in them, trying to pretend, he just wanted…he wanted…

Trembling and exhausted, Pride let himself slip into an engulfing sleep

0 * 0 * 0

_Pop!_

Something reeked. It was that familiar stench that came with rotting flesh, specifically his own. He'd overslept, it would be better to regenerate straight away, but some sort of morbid curiosity made him compelled to assess his 'damage' for the day. A searing pain from his stomach gave him enough of a clue, and Pride patted at the cover.

But there was a hole, and the edges of it were stained with something that burned his fingers. Pride pushed the cover away as he forced his probably swollen eyes open, and gasped. All his middle had been eaten away, through his pyjamas and the mattress, melted away from his stomach acid, his stomach must have tore, burst, it didn't matter. It just hurt…it hurt so much, dissolving his skin as he moved with a hissing sound, it made the pain that came with the skin on his hands and feet being ripped off pale in comparison. Rolling out of bed Pride pulled the singed dregs of his pyjamas off him, retching at the smell of the rotten milk mixed with the acid, ignoring his embarrassment of again having nothing to wear, and letting himself get in such a pathetic state again. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about how he must've looked now, _who_ he must've looked like. Pride shook his head, covering his face in his shame, his flesh repairing itself piece by miserable piece.

He needed…he needed…

He needed another bath.

0 * 0 * 0

The second of Pride's baths in probably as many days didn't consist of anything more than reusing the shallow pool of melted ice water from his previous bath to weakly clean himself of blood and mucus and the other things pouring out of his punctured abdomen as it slowly healed, turning the warm water different shades of yellow and pink before settling on a filthy brown. But not before collapsing in front of the toilet to gag, (and leave a nice putrid stain in front of it from the still leaking cavity in his middle where his stomach had burst) which eventually led to him further degrading himself by vomiting up blood and remnants of milk and eventually bile from his seemingly only ruptured liver. It didn't matter, the remaining acid from his gaping stomach hurt enough to make him forget about all the other things, he just hoped it wouldn't corrode the toilet, with the electricity and water unable to function without humans overseeing the factories that produced them it had to go un-flushed, leaving a fetid odor lingering throughout the room while he bathed - a constant reminder of his previous wretched state, Pride hoped it wouldn't spread to the other rooms too.

The whole thing better off forgotten, Pride, back in his best condition, ambled with still wet feet covered up in another towel back to his room, lazily shielding his eyes from the bright amber streaming through the window as the sun rose.

Once in his room he shut the door and through closed eyes haphazardly drew the curtains to block out the light as well as preserve some sort of need for privacy, determined to shove the fragmented bits and pieces of his unknowingly fragile ego back together- and clothes were a must in his attempts, knowing it impolite to wear pyjamas once awake he reluctantly stepped back into his torn grey shorts and his dirty once white shirt, leaving the waistcoat where it was and leaving the shirt not tucked in for the time being. There was something…nostalgic about wearing clothes this way, carefree without having to adhere to human norms because he was ignorant to them, long before the times he needed to babysit Wrath, long before Wrath was even a possibility, centuries ago now, when posing as a normal human and walking about the then minute town of Central (in comparison to now) with Lust was enough. Such humiliating memories of the way he used to be, he hated to even think about them, what a weak, pathetic creature he was then, he…he didn't look anything like that wearing these clothes, these were clothes that the Bradley family's tailor had made of the finest material, that had been made especially for him at the request of Mothe—_no_. And besides, he could have been mistaken, and since he was never looking in a mirror ever again it didn't matter.

After a moment his nose caught something awful, of course, his quilt was ruined. Upon closer inspection he could see that most of the lion's head that made up the Amestrian flag had been eaten away, holding no stain, only a slight cream around the edges of the tear, how disgusting. Pride just rolled the cover up and hurried back to the bathroom, tossing it in there with his tattered sorry excuse for pyjamas and everything else foul smelling that he'd rather forget about. The mattress had escaped any serious damage, protected by his stomach lining and his spine and any other part of him Edward would rather spite instead of the bed (it was always Edward's fault, always would be) and with help from three or more pairs of extra hands he delicately turned it over, patting it down. He smiled at his successful attempts to completely deny that the morning's events had occurred at all, sprawling himself out in the middle of the now bare bed with a sigh.

Before very long he grew bored, preferring to close his eyes rather than be greeted by the dull green of his bed drapes for another second. His mind drifting in a midmorning daze he began to muse, clinging to whatever he could to ponder and waste the time until Father found him, whenever that would be. With the house empty he had nothing to entertain himself, he had no need to draw or read without _her_ to praise him and for him to soak up every drop of affection she gave. No Wrath to be suspicious of or to tease or to keep in line. Should he have been foolish enough to stretch his shadow down to the tunnels beneath Amestris there would be no Sloth to wake and scold, not even a Lust to ignore and spurn because of events years ago, bleary and unmentionable and better left that way.

Pride could feel them, the minute changes inside Edward's body as it decided earlier and earlier after regenerating that it was about time for it to start decomposing, those almost unnoticeable changes in its chemistry that allowed it to begin to fester, a deadly, quiet threat that would happily inconvenience him at every occasion in its attempts to render itself unusable to spite him, and why should it not spite him for stealing its human's body? But Pride didn't care about the inconveniences it brought, Father had altered this body to make a container just for him, he needed to appreciate it, it was not something Father needed to worry himself about, he'd be fine. All the years he'd spent inside his first, only other container, Pride couldn't say he hadn't valued every moment, ever since he had been placed there by Father centuries ago, in that cold September day in 1680, one he hardly remembered, only waking in the spring because of how much Father wished to make it perfect for him to live in, perhaps with the intention of it housing him forever- no such luck with Truth demanding a toll for his human transmutation, it was more than worth Father achieving his goal. Pride still remembered how he learned to walk, and read and write, Father patiently teaching him after years of ignorance, he'd been so delighted to be able to help Father by learning. But it was gone now, nothing but memories and specks of dust ingrained in his clothes. He knew that he would never experience anything similar to the happiness again, in Edward's body at least, but he'd endure and carry on regardless.

Accepting it for the first time, Pride rolled onto his stomach to doze, and mourned the loss of his container.

0 * 0 * 0

A sudden chill roused Pride from his rest, interrupting the light swirl of colours in his simple dreams, the slow ripples of colour reminded him of his shadows, helped soothe him without too much effort, as of late he had begun to prefer them to his more structured and complex imaginings, _those_ dreams often featured things that irritated him and generally left him more tired than when he went to sleep. Without a useable cover Pride reached for his waistcoat, and when that failed he stumbled his way over to the door and unhooked his dressing gown, having the sense to regenerate regardless of his condition, countless souls had been used to repair his container, another one or two didn't matter, he still had well over a hundred left so it didn't faze him in the least, an odd spring breeze was enough excuse to wear extra layers to keep him warm, despite the rather irksome consequences later on. With the pure white, albeit slightly dust covered dressing gown only reaching his waist (he made sure to shake it thoroughly before wearing it) Pride resigned to merely laying it over his legs as he curled himself back up in the middle of the mattress, determined to sleep until Father found him, when he was asleep he didn't need to think, and if he wasn't thinking his mind could not wander to undesirable places.

The room seemed to quake slightly, the candle on his beside table moving and a quiet hum of a vibration shaking the bed, he knew he was imagining it, the beginning of another dream, he didn't mind it, pulling a pillow down to snuggle closer to it.

And yet the wind hissed, and still whipped around him, and the whole house still seemed to shake, Pride curled tighter, pressing his fingers into his eyes, he didn't want to dream about almost real things, he didn't do that anymore. He—

"Found you, Pride." At the sound of the voice that could never be mistaken for another Pride jolted awake and almost threw himself off the bed, hurriedly pulling on his socks and stepping into his shoes and tucking his shirt in and buttoning up his waistcoat and running his fingers through his hair, all with the ashamed haste of being found in such an unkempt state.

"**Good morning, Father." **Pride was never reluctant to humble himself for Father, bowing his head and then bowing completely, always eager to please, always desperate and yearning for even the tiniest sign of approval that never came.

"Good _evening_, Pride." Pride didn't make mistakes, but Father was never wrong about anything, _never_, and at his own glaring mistake he blanched, his hands nervously wringing together behind his back, his face flushing not in the early stages of his rotting but in shame and embarrassment at acting so inappropriately having been away from home for two days.

"I thought I would be unable to find you, but here you are, at the final moment before our game ends." Another mistake, no wonder he had been at such a late stage of decomposition if he'd slept through the whole second day of Father's game. Still, what he had assumed was an imagined breeze rustled his clothes, and he wished he wasn't only half awake so he could stop imagining things. He glanced around, and his eyes widened, this wasn't…this couldn't be right…

Everything was just, _gone_.

A clear expanse of destroyed or crumbling buildings surrounded him as far as he could see, everything reduced to nothing except his room, the supports weakening every second, of course the room was shaking. Father didn't seem to notice anything amiss, stepping from his small stone pillar into the 'room' through the now useless doorframe (the door fell away as he did, smashing with a thud, falling two floors to nothing but debris and bricks and furniture), approaching with a smile regardless of his disheveled appearance. There was a certain glint in Father's eye, a particular gleam that Pride hadn't seen before, and if he had he'd forgotten it, perhaps happiness, he couldn't remember Father's eyes on the promised day, but he assumed they might have contained that same shimmer as they did now, and because of that Pride returned the smile, delighted in the fact that he had pleased Father by partaking in his game. But something felt a little…off, but he ignored it, watching Father step closer, almost a glide across the falling apart room, his bare feet scuffling against the plush carpet, Pride wondered what had happened to his sandals, Father wouldn't just forget to wear them…

Father was in front of him now, smiling down at him, just being in Father's shadow was an honour, being so close to him was…

Father's toothy grin twitched a little at the corners, eyes twitching too, maybe the wind was irritating him, they needed to go home, Pride didn't want anything more, he wanted to leave and forget about the last three days. Father knelt down, and his smirk grew as he brushed the hair out of his eyes.

Pride didn't understand, this felt…strange, why was Father doing this?

"_I'm…concerned about Father, Pride. I think he…"_ Wrath couldn't be right, that was ridiculous, there was nothing wrong with Father, Father was perfect, he had always been perfect, but now he was equal to a God, having achieved his goals and pulling down Truth (and with _his _help too), Wrath was just being irksome and was determined to ruin things for him, he hadn't the slightest clue what he was talking about.

"**Where's Wrath, Father?"**

"I found him yesterday, he's home, I left him there when I came looking for you." Then Father leaned forward, and pulled him into a hug, his head leaning on Father's shoulder because Pride couldn't comprehend what was happening, Father wouldn't do this, he didn't deserve to be this close to Father, not ever…

"Of all my children, Pride, you were almost the most loyal, the most reliable, the most devoted, the best" Pride allowed himself a more self-satisfied blush where Father wouldn't see, his hands straight at his sides, he still didn't deserve to touch Father, even if Father was praising him, _praising him_. "Three-hundred-and-twenty-five years you've served me to the best of your ability" Father's hand pushed against his back, pressing him closer. The breeze stilled, and he thought he heard Father chuckle to himself "But…" Pride s smile only grew, so many years he'd spent by Father's side, and how he had the rest of time to spend with him, he cherished the thought of having Father praise him always. But if it was May 20th today…then tomorrow he'd be…

"**Three-hundred-and twenty six…" **Father tensed, pushing him away, glaring at him curiously

"What was that, Pride?"

"**Tomorrow…it'll be my birthday, Father." **Pride bowed his head, he shouldn't have spoken out of turn, not when Father was praising him, who knew when he would ever do something like that again. But something warm patted at his head slowly, and Father was smiling again, but the shimmer in his eyes was gone, maybe not gone but…hidden at least.

"So it will, Pride. Come, let's return home now." The building supports groaned, beginning to crumble and the wood framing to crack. Now he could finally leave this place, and forget about all this pretending to be human nonsense

"**Of course, Father."**

0 * 0 * 0

They were in this situation again, Pride sitting down, slowly kicking his legs in the imitation of him being in a good mood, glaring and almost seething if he was capable of such things, which he wasn't, his sin not being wrath but the person who possessed said sin being the very source of his annoyance.

"**Making a habit of causing trouble, aren't you Wrath?" **Pride's voiced dripped poison, grating and more warped than he had heard it before, but dealing with Wrath was _not_ something he wished to be having to live with for the rest of time with Father, so he didn't expect the annoyance to be doing him any favours, it was no wonder his voice was filled with more malice than usual.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Pride"

"**Ok then, tell me why you insisted on again disrupting things for Father _immediately after returning from his game_. Boredom is _not_ an excuse to behave so disrespectful-" **

"Who broke Lust's mirror? It was you, wasn't it, ashamed to even look at yourself now?" Pride could see Wrath's smirking through the remaining shards of glass from the gold-coloured corners of the mirror frame, he was just happy he couldn't see himself instead, but the fact that Wrath was being so insubordinate even now, even after what he'd done to Father's room… Pride let himself return the smirk, ensuring Wrath could see it.

"**Tomorrow Father's going to punish you, and then-"**

"I saw her yesterday." Wrath also got the best look of how Pride's face completely fell as he knew all too well who he was talking about "Her body as least." His legs froze against the silk of Lust's bed covers, knees jerking upwards, but Pride glowered, hands clutching at the thin sheets.

"**Do not _lie _about such things, Wrath! To even concoct such lies is…you are just weak, Wrath, to be clinging to such futile _human _desires, it's shameful!"**

"And you can say you felt nothing for her?" Pride's brow knitted itself together, Wrath, always asking stupid questions to which any answer wouldn't be enough for him, and he just _knew_ that any answer here would only lead to more questions that would…but it was pointless to think of anything, Wrath just needed to leave like a good little brother and think about what he's done.

"**She…she meant _nothing_ to me. Leave now, Wrath, you do not deserve to be in the presence of anyone after what you've done."**

"Might want to regenerate sooner than you anticipated, Pride, your eyes are leaking." Pride's scowl continued to cut lines into his face, and he wiped at his cheek as he watched Wrath leave, moisture coming away on his fingers.

_Tears._

No, his eyes were just…_leaking_.

Pride hiccupped, rubbing his eyes dry and collapsing into the silk of Lust's bed, musing of a simpler time, back when the bed was actually occupied, and the mirror wasn't broken.

At least the floor was still the only place he should sleep.

0 * 0 * 0

**May 21st 1916**

"Happy birthday, Pride." Pride pretended he didn't lean and push himself taller as Father ruffled his hair, that look in his eyes again, fainter than before, but still there, grinning wider than he thought he could with his irksome condition, occasionally glancing at Wrath at the far end of the room to scowl for trying to ruin his birthday, just because Father didn't care about _his_ birthday, if Wrath even had one.

Father was smiling down at him again too, was pushing something against his mouth- oh, Pride stepped back, bowing like he was supposed to, gratefully accepting his birthday present **"Thank you, Father." **He pushed the crimson stone between lips and gulping it down happily, pretending he didn't hear the humans' screams inside his head, he'd learned to ignore them centuries ago, he didn't care about any of them, they didn't even remember who they used to be anymore.

"Nothing is too good for my first born, Pride. Now, I want you to feed the chimeras while I have…a little discussion with Wrath about yesterday. Can you do that for me?" Father held out a bucket filled with random assortments of meat, all red and blood filled no doubt, perfect chimera food, good enough for creatures such as them as it had always been. Pride took the handle with another bow.

"**Of course, Father, I will complete any task to the highest standard, as I have always done, and always will do." **Without another word Pride headed off to the sewers, to carry out Father's orders without complaint, even if it was his birthday, he would never prioritize such a trivial human occasion over Father's wishes. But maybe…because it was his birthday…

Maybe Father would even praise him again.

0 * 0 * 0

"**You call this everyone? Fine." **Pride counted the remaining chimeras, well, all five of them, during the year Father had forgotten to feed everyone most had made their way into the town to scavenge on the decaying bodies of the humans, no doubt they had all been killed when Father leveled the city the day before, or had died from starvation or been killed when they turned on each other, making the untreated sewer reek more than it already did, though these days the only thing Pride found on the floor was the bones of the dead chimeras, picked dry, he playfully kicked the bones into the sewer water as he went.

With a sigh Pride picked out a chunk of meat and threw it towards the chimera with a horse's legs and tail and with two heads, one of a docile looking sheep, the other of a bear. The bear-side ate greedily while the sheep-side was content in staring at him blankly, baa-ing at him after a moment; he ignored it, moving onto the next chimera. The hyena-fox was blind in one eye, running its way into a wall when he threw it its food, Pride just rolled his eyes, how such a useless creature could survive for this long was beyond him. The boar-goat mix was content in fighting for its piece with the lion-bull despite Pride having given them their portions separately. He poured the rest of the bucket's contents out, blood leaking across the floor into the water.

"**Right, now that that's-" **Pride only accounted for four now, where was—

Something tugged at his leg, a dog with three heads, the middle head feeling the need to consider him a meal.

"**What's wrong with you, you mangy thing? How dare you be so impudent to those who feed you." **Pride lazily tried to shake it off, amused at the malnourished chimera's attempts at biting through his container **"Do I look like rotting meat to you?" **Pride grimaced at his own implication, and winced, they could smell his decaying body already? But he'd…

He settled for burying one of his shadows in the dog's skull, and then the other head, and the other, then all along its body until the other chimeras had long since run away with whatever meat they could salvage. Pride was shaking, leaning against the wall, his body sparking with the slow familiar crackles as he regenerated. It was only a coincidence, it was only hungry, Wrath only found out on a guess, there was no possibility of him being so obvious that even pathetic enough creatures as chimeras could discover it immediately…

Pride forced himself to smile, it was fine, he was fine again now, and he wandered back through the tunnels of the sewers, kicking the body of the dead chimera into water as he went.

0 * 0 * 0

Pride padded in from the sewer in a marginally better mood than when he went there, albeit a very forced mood, he didn't mind it, soon he would be with Father again then everything would be fine again, he could spend the rest of his birthday with Father and be happy, and the way things were going, he wouldn't have to feed the chimeras at all soon enough. He noticed it immediately, how could he not, the lake of blood pooling in the middle of Father's room, the minute speck of black and white floating at its centre. Pride just inched closer, stumbling over—something, a- boot? A boot with a foot inside, serrated leg bone attached and poking out. Pride didn't know what was happening, why was…?

"**Wrath," **of course it could be no one else **"Wrath, who…who did this to you…?" **a stupid question, there was only him and Father left, but…

Wrath didn't even acknowledge him, his remaining eye missing, no limbs, facing down against the stone floor, his breath slowing and ceasing after a few moments as his hair faded to a lifeless, brilliant white. Pride's eyes prickled with…. something, but it was absurd that he would actually—

"Welcome back, Pride. How were the chimeras?"

"**They're fine, Father." **Father was smiling as he strode towards him, his sandals clacking against the stone floor as he approached, and despite the thick black rings beneath his eyes that Father had been developing over the past few days his perfect, golden eyes were sparkling again with that peculiar emotion. Why would Father be happy that he… but of course Wrath must have brought it upon himself…Father said he was going to punish him but, but he'd have never thought that meant…

"Do you know why I did that to Wrath?"

"**Y-you were punishing him, Father. For what he did to your room yesterday." **the room was all fixed now, no sign to even hint at how Wrath had been determined to destroy everything for whatever reason, Pride knew every other reason other than boredom was a lie, it always was with Wrath, not of this 'having seen _her'_ rubbish.

"Indeed, Pride. But, due to his behaviour yesterday I discovered something. I realized that Wrath no longer served a purpose to me, so why should I allow him to live when he wishes to disrupt things for me, even once I allowed him to visit Aerugo in the winter, he had become nothing but a nuisance" Something about Father's phrasing, his enunciation and his tone, sent a shiver down through him, and Pride faltered, certain he must have been mistaken and misinterpreted something and yet couldn't completely believe himself.

"**Father…Am…am I a nuisance, and useless too?" **Father only sighed, and cupped his cheek lightly.

"Oh, Pride," but Father smirked, and chuckled, his eyes lighting up "The answer to that is quite obvious."

Before Pride could consider it any longer he was on the floor, Father looming over him, palm pressing into his chest, gleeful grin stretching across his face.

"**Father…" **He only cupped his cheek again, smoothing his thumb over it, no affection behind it whatsoever, warm and perfect and somehow so cold and emotionless. Everything was strange; Pride couldn't understand what had happened so quickly, he'd only gone to feed the chimeras and now… Father's hand trailed up to cover his right eye, pushing it shut gently and rubbing at it,

"This is the eye you lost, isn't it, on the Promised day?" Pride could only nod, he couldn't speak, his shadows weren't even willing to squeak out a murmur or a '_hm'_ of approval, even though that would be far too disrespectful at any rate, he didn't want to remember what Truth did to him that day, nothing from back then mattered anymore. That glimmer in Father's eyes was still there, and it only increased as Father gripped his eyelid between his fingers (Pride was ashamed at the way he squirmed at the sting it brought), or tore it _off. _With another smirk Father pushed at the exposed little sphere with his finger, teasingly scraping across it, to which Pride could only shake his head so as to not gasp or be tempted to cry out. At his shameful reactions to pain Father huffed and pushed himself onto his knees, leaning his whole weight on the one finger, and dragging down, hooking on his eye socket from the inside, his eye burst, running through Father's fingers and down his face in a gooey white stream flecked with violet and red and a sliver of gold from Edward's true eye colour, hidden beneath the filter Father had made for him. Instantly, Pride's hand shot to cover up the gap where his eye sat moments before, Father only slapped his hand away, broke his arm and bound it in stone at the wrist, secured to the floor, he had the mercy to leave his spare arm intact, bounding it anyway. "Oh, did that hurt? How awful. Oh, but don't even think of regenerating Pride, lest you would enjoy me repeating myself." Pride could see it now, the sparkle in Father's eyes, it wasn't happiness, not real happiness, he probably possessed it once, that same wild, almost crazed sparkle, perhaps the second time he ever killed a human, that feeling, the desire to kill simply because he was capable of doing so.

Father's eyes shone with bloodlust. Pride just shuddered, gulping, his remaining eye wide and unable to understand where or why everything had suddenly changed.

"Why have you kept this from me, Pride? I cannot sense Edward Elric's soul within you. Without him your container cannot remain stable." Despite the warning of what Pride was all too aware of Father knelt on his chest and forced his hand into the now hollow cavity of his eye socket, his knuckles catching on the bones but Father pushed through anyway, wrist and part of his arm breaking through into his head "You should be well aware of how to preserve the soul of the human your container is made from, you did the first time long enough." Father sneered maliciously down at him, providing no doubt that he was telling the truth, his mind went blank.

"**My…my container wasn't…?" **His first words since the whole thing started was lined with shame and disbelief

"Of course it wasn't made artificially, why would I create such a worthless, pathetic wretch like the human you chose? I felt obligated not to tell you, you surely would have been ashamed of yourself, like you are now, am I not a considerate, loving father, Pride? " Father's mocking hurt more than the pain of having his head invaded, he could even feel the bones cracking around Father's arm, but Father insulting him…when it was his birthday…

"Your container's already decomposing, I can feel it" Pride could feel Father's hand roaming inside his head, grasping for something that Pride knew was probably important but… "You have been using souls to regenerate to keep this from me." Father's hand closed around the small bundle of shadows inside his head, tugging at them, dragging them out through his eye, leaving a thick strand of shadow still connecting it to his head.

"I will be…taking them back now; please don't look away, Pride." The smirk that hadn't left Father's face only deepened, and became more twisted as he dug his fingers into the small blob of shadow, like Father knew something he did not, and it was obvious he did. His hand sparked with the familiar flashes of his alchemy, no longer reassuring or comforting, Pride wished he could squeeze his eye shut and pretend he was elsewhere, anywhere but here, but Father's words made him consider it an unwise choice, if he disobeyed him…Father would only make him suffer even more.

Pride shuddered as Father ripped a soul from him, and another, and another… the shudder deteriorated into violent spasms as the shadows that filled Pride's container dissolved. His legs convulsed and smashed themselves into the floor. Another soul, another, another…each one being tore out with a howl, the shadow in Father's hand dissolving, and before very long Pride's hands were clenched and he had to use every stubborn fibre of his being not to howl along with them.

"**Why…? !" **The disgrace of desiring a reason for what Father was going to him felt like it should have been his main concern for the indignity of it all, the fact that it wasn't was even worse. **"I'm…I'm sorry for not t-t-telling you about…"**

"Why am I doing this, Pride? Well, you see…really…" Father smiled, leaning close to whisper in his ear, his golden hair falling into his face, parts of his eye becoming attached to the strands.

"_I don't have a reason"_

Pride crumbled at such a simple answer, if Father had a reason, any reason for doing this to him he would have gladly accepted it without a word, but…Father had no reason for doing this…then why…did he hate him so much he wanted to hurt him like this…

Soon his was just the one, maybe two or three…he wasn't sure of anything anymore. The shadows had fallen away, an almost invisible line still securing in to Pride's head, only a white speck of something between Father's fingers. Pride knew what it was, he remembered now, but…it only represented everything he despised about himself, that was why he kept it locked away where no one would see, where even he could forget about its existence. But Pride was still unwilling to accept what was happening, forcing a smile, even if the first Greed had died this way…at least…at least…

"**At least…I can be a part of you forever…" **Father's humourless snigger destroyed his futile delusion.

"How presumptuous of you, Pride, Gods cannot have any sins, what a ridiculous thought. Wrath accepted this, when I found him complaining about that _human_. Are you afraid to die?" Pride shook his head weakly, but the pitiful bleats from the infant answered for him. His shadows so small, he couldn't move any part of his container, barely able to see. With his sight so blurred he could imagine it was all a dream, maybe he was still dreaming and he hadn't even woke up yet, with Father hunched over him, golden hair and eyes shining with unnatural light…he looked like Edward, but that malicious grin…it shattered his helpless fantasy. His fractured mind began to drift; he thought he could hear…

_Selim…_

_Selim, Dear, where are you two?_

_**Where are you?**_

"**No…" **it couldn't be…it wasn't…Father wouldn't be so cruel…

"I don't suppose you cared for her, did you, Pride? That would be most shameful, a homunculus, fond of a human?" Father had taken to talking to the speck caught between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing its body softly, but just hard enough to it that it would start to cry, ignoring Pride's flinch at the voice in his head, instead raising his eyebrow as it began to sob harder to itself for no reason. The voice- _her _voice continued to echo, making him shudder, she must have been in the Philosopher's stone Father gave him, to spite him and torture him like everything else.

"_Mama…_" Father glared daggers at him, his gleeful mocking turning to hate in an instant.

"Care to repeat that, Pride?" Father shook it awake, smiling as it looked at him curiously, waking for the first time in who knew how long, wiping its eyes.

"…**I didn't mean to… no… Father… p-please, don't…"** It would be easy, far too easy to—

Father squeezed, nothing more than an effortless pinch, but it shrieked, everything except its head being reduced to a sticky red mess, stone shining through its torn skin,_ blood_ pouring out its mouth as it cried feebly, more the pauses between its helpless wheezing through its punctured lungs.

Mind half gone, Pride giggled, lightheaded, but he couldn't die if he had two souls left…so…maybe he could do one last thing…

Pride didn't move, giving no indication of his sluggish, horrendous rate of regeneration, slow enough to not spark, so Father wouldn't notice, her…_Mother's _voice grew faint, and faded away as he used her soul to repair his minute body, he apologized silently at being so selfish, it not enough to completely heal him but…enough to end her suffering at least. Father seemed to realize then, his contempt for his continued existence returning.

"You insolent wretch! Wasting another soul for yourself, while daring to defy your loving father." If it hadn't been obvious from the start it was obvious now.

_Pride I…I think there's something wrong with Father…_

"Be gone, you pathetic, detestable waste."

Wrath…might have been right about one thing in his life. But Father tried to force the bits of his sanity together, to remain not angry but…happy to be slaughtering his first creation, no matter how much Pride tried to deny it even now, so close to the end.

A single tear trickled out from Pride's remaining eye, he shivered. He was afraid, so terribly afraid he couldn't think straight. His true form shivered too, feebly trying to move its still mangled hand towards its mouth despite the pain, provide some final comfort for itself before…

"Sweet dreams, Little one."

Pride closed his eye, and the last thing he heard was screaming.

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